FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 332: Chapter 332: Trust The Walls

And as expected, the respite lasted exactly fourteen minutes.

Sol didn’t sit down. He stood near the front of the formation, his silver-gray armor acting as a visual anchor for the nervous warriors around him. He focused on his breathing, letting the Breath of Dawn technique cycle the ambient essence through his meridians, ensuring his reserves were filled to the absolute brim.

Then, the ground began to vibrate.

He took a deep breath and looked up.

It wasn’t the chaotic, frantic stampede of the first wave. This vibration was heavy, rhythmic, and terrifyingly coordinated. It felt as though the tectonic plates beneath the Great Heartwood were grinding against each other.

“Shield wall!” veylara’s voice rang out from the right flank, sharp and commanding.

The Veynar warriors locked their heavy petrified-wood shields together, bracing their spears against the earth.

The sky above the Great Orrath seemed to darken further as the tree line literally exploded outward. Massive, ancient, petrified trees were violently uprooted and tossed aside like brittle twigs as the second wave breached the clearing.

From the darkness of the jungle, the second wave broke the tree line.

It wasn’t a tide anymore. It was more like a tsunami.

Sol’s breath hitched. Veylara wasn’t exaggerating. The sheer volume of the incoming horde was staggering. Tens of thousands of beasts poured out of the jungle. These weren’t unranked scavengers, this was an ocean of Essence Born predators, and mixed seamlessly into their ranks were the massive, towering silhouettes of Omen Blood

predators, acting as terrifying shock troops.

here were Iron‑Hide Boars, charging through the undergrowth with tusks that split trees, Stone‑Back Gorillas, their fists pounding with the weight of rock, and packs of Black Wolves.

With a roar that shook the heavens, the true beast tide slammed into the Veynar Vanguard.

The collision was apocalyptic. The Veynar shield wall buckled instantly under the sheer, crushing weight of the overwhelming numbers. The air was filled with the sickening crunch of breaking wood, the screams of men, and the explosive detonations of elemental essence clashing in the mud.

Sol didn’t wait for them to reach the gate. He launched himself directly back into the deepest part of the fray.

The Dreadwing Blade became a blur of iridescent sapphire light. Sol abandoned restraint. He engaged the latent speed of the Dreadwing, his body turning into a midnight-blue streak of localized destruction. He ducked under a stream of acid, and drove his blade upward, entirely bisecting the massive armored Centipede that had breathed it.

He pivoted instantly, meeting the charge of an armored Rhino-Beetle head-on. He didn’t dodge. He let the beast’s massive horn slam directly into his Badger-hide chest plate. The tectonic resonance flared, absorbing the multi-ton impact, while Sol used the beast’s own momentum against it. He grabbed the horn with his free hand, anchored his boots into the mud, and flipped the massive insect entirely over his head, burying his blade into its exposed, unarmored underbelly.

It was an exhilarating, blood-pumping display of absolute violence. Sol was a walking calamity, his manic laughter lost in the deafening roar of the battlefield.

But as the battle stretched from minutes into agonizing hours, the brutal reality of the tide began to assert itself.

The numbers were simply too great.

For every Omen Blood beast Sol slaughtered, three more Essence Born monsters poured out of the tree line to take its place. The tide wasn’t just a wave, it was a rising flood that threatened to drown the entire Veynar Vanguard in a sea of teeth and claws.

Sol fought tirelessly. His Sun Core was like an endless reactor, burning the beast essence to fuel his muscles. He severed limbs, crushed skulls, and bathed in the hot, chaotic blood of dozens different species. But he was only one man. He couldn’t be everywhere at once.

Down the line, the sheer, crushing pressure was taking its toll.

The veteran Vanguard warriors fought with heroic, desperate ferocity, their spears moving in coordinated, lethal thrusts. But their stamina was finite. Their muscles burned, their lungs screamed for air, and their essence reserves were slowly draining dry.

The quality of the beasts was actively scaling up with every passing hour. The rot-hounds were replaced by Black Wolves. The Iron‑Hide Boars were replaced by heavily armored Obsidian-Scale Jaguar. The pressure was compounding exponentially.

…

The sky wept a light, freezing drizzle, turning the battlefield into a slick, treacherous quagmire of mud and viscera. Lightning crackled in the dark clouds above, illuminating the endless sea of monsters crashing against the human defenders.

For hours, Sol fought like an Asura descended from a blood-soaked heaven. He parried streams of superheated plasma, deflected massive boulders hurled by Crag-Apes, and crushed the skulls of stealth-beasts that tried to flank the exhausted Veynar spearmen. The golden liquid in his core was boiling, pumping highly refined dawn essence into his limbs just to keep his muscles from tearing under the continuous, superhuman exertion.

Despite the heroic, bloody efforts of everyone, numbers started taking tolls on them. The Veynar defensive line was slowly, agonizingly being pushed backward, step by bloody step, toward the towering obsidian-timber gates.

Sol stood in the center of a literal mountain of carcasses. He casually flicked the Dreadwing Blade, the high-frequency zing of the sapphire blade cutting through the heavy, humid air as it shed the black, corrosive blood of his enemies. He lowered his weapon and rolled his broad shoulders, his muscles ached due to excess of lactic acid, and his lungs burnt demand more and more oxygen.

“They’re pushing the left flank!” a Vanguard captain screamed, his voice cracking as a massive, club-tailed reptilian shattered his shield.

Sol heard the call and without caring about his pan, instantly blurred toward the collapsing line, leaving a trail of severed bodies in his wake. He arrived just in time to catch the reptilian’s tail with his bare hand, the impact jarring his shoulder, before separating its head from its neck with a single, brutal slash.

But his intervention came a fraction of a second too late.

The brief opening was all the beasts needed.

A pack of Hook-Claw Stalkers… highly agile, wind-aspected Essence Born predators… didn’t bother engaging the heavy Vanguard infantry. Seeing the gap, they surged forward. They used the massive, piled-up corpses of the larger beasts as organic ramps, leaping high into the air, entirely bypassing the Vanguard perimeter.

They soared over Sol’s head, their sleek bodies silhouetted against the dark sky, and landed with heavy, metallic thuds directly onto the sheer vertical face of the Veynar walls.

Their specialized, hooked claws dug deep into the petrified wood. With terrifying speed, they began to scale the massive fortifications, completely bypassing the ground defense, heading straight for the archers and the civilian sanctum inside.

“Breach! Wall breach!” the alarm rang out from the watchtowers.

Sol cursed violently, ripping his blade free from a dying beast, preparing to fall back and hunt the climbers down.

“Hold the line, Sol!” Veylara’s voice roared from the center of the fray, her White Tiger phantom flickering visibly behind her as she impaled three beasts simultaneously. “Do not break the vanguard! Trust the walls!”

Sol gritted his teeth, trusting her command. He pivoted back to the meat grinder, pouring his frustration into the edge of his sapphire blade, creating a dead zone of shredded meat around him.

Up on the massive, petrified battlements, absolute chaos erupted.

The Hook-Claw Stalkers crested the top of the wall, their venomous fangs bared, about to slaughter helpless archers.